


She's Not My Type

by pissedoffpineapples



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffpineapples/pseuds/pissedoffpineapples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA that one time Jessica Jones and Jeri Hogarth had spontaneous, shameless hate sex and struggled to comprehend their thoughts and feelings in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Femslash February.

She wasn't Jeri Hogarth's type. There was nothing about her that was. This is what she had thought to herself the first time Jessica Jones came into her view. It wasn't a normal thing for her to think about when she laid eyes on a new woman. After all, a woman seeking a divorce who already had the next woman lined up certainly had enough going on. So perhaps that should have been the first hint that maybe there was something else about her. 

Not Jeri's type, no, certainly. Jeri liked light haired women. Women who liked to get fancy and go out to eat, who dressed up when necessary at least or, better yet, always. Women who loved to smile and looked fantastic doing it. Jeri liked a woman who created a nice light space. Women who with their brightness and general cheeriness could create a contrast to her dark. Her somber, serious, work as usual. 

Jessica Jones was the absolute and utter opposite of what Jeri Hogarth regarded herself as liking in a woman. She was coarse, rude and uncouth in her speech most of the time. She barged into rooms without knocking, often with an expression like soured milk and an attitude surrounding her more dangerous than an electric fence.

Her dress code was non existent. It seemed to Hogarth much of the time that she didn't care if she was going to the red carpet or an underground cage fight – one outfit was appropriate for either. It was usually jeans and the same leather jacket. A t-shirt. Sometimes the jeans were scuffed out or ripped, revealing the tender red of skinned knees beneath. Her hair was a tangled mass of dark strands, curling around her ears and her neck, unruly and untamed.

Despite all these things that would typically appear to Hogarth as red flags, she still found herself thinking on that first day, _no, she's not my type._ There was something else about Jessica, maybe – or maybe not. Jeri wasn't typically used to her thoughts getting out from under her firm grip, but sometimes, she supposed, it happened. She decided somewhat noncommittally that it had been rough week at the office and put the issue to bed. 

But Jessica lingered, like a distinctly peculiar but not altogether bad scent. Months since their first encounter passed like clockwork, and she would be in and out, often unannounced either way. Sure, she was touchy and coarse, but she got the worst clients under control. The worst cases handled. Sometimes, Hogarth thought, in rather unscrupulous and possibly illegal ways – but she got them done. Which is what she was needed for. 

She was an odd bird, that was for sure – in one day, sometimes unheard of for a week before popping back up on the radar. The only reason Jeri didn't reject her or, for lack of a better word, fire her, was because the quality of her work was undeniable. When she was there to do it, that is. 

Her absence meant that most of the time Hogarth didn't bother to think about Jessica. She only crossed her mind on the rare occasion when they crossed paths. Besides, being a high demand lawyer with an over complicated love life kept her occupied enough as it was. 

So Jeri resumed with her sometimes over the top life. Her courtroom appearances. Keeping up her stellar reputation for success. Wooing Pam. Moving out of the house she shared with Wendy and into a humbly decorated yet extravagantly sized apartment, until she had the time to get back on the housing market. The days seemed to move in a blur. Morning to evening, nothing more than an intricate but fast moving pallet of documents, dull migraines, the flashing of faces both known and unknown, and the ringing of telephones. 

Two weekends after she was comfortably moved into her new apartment, having spent a relaxing but somewhat dull Friday evening with a glass of wine and a stack of divorce papers, Hogarth retired early. It was sometime nearing around ten when she got into her heavy blankets, comfortable and content to no longer be sharing a bed. 

Her pillow soft enough for comfort but just practical enough for neck support had been especially comfortable, and so she drifted off with relative ease, not a sound striking the serene atmosphere of her bedroom. 

Some hours later, something stirred the pot of this quiet. Her eyelids flickered open for a brief second, the jarring sound in the background slowly catching up to her as puzzle pieces of her consciousness fell back into place. It was her cell phone. She could hear it from across the room. 

She could see it lighting up, on her dresser at the other side. She must have left it there when she undressed some hours ago, she concurred with her drowsy mind. Either way, she knew with an air of experience that if it was important enough, whoever was on the other end would leave her a voice mail. Whoever it was would leave her a voice mail, and it would be dealt with in the morning. 

This organized, coherent plan – or as close to one as it could be in her groggy state – eased her mind and she found she was able to blot out the ringing enough to slip back under sleep's radar. Nothing else disturbed her – at least not right away. 

It would be dealt with in the morning – that's what Hogarth had thought – but it became obvious as the next disturbing event in her night came to a head that it simply wouldn't be that way. 

Something shook her shoulder. Unfazed, thinking it was a shift she herself had caused, Jeri got herself comfortable once again when she felt it again. A distinctly human hand rapping at her shoulder. It wasn't rough or violent, but the first thought that sprung to her mind was the one that most people coveted at the thought of things that go bump in the night – had someone broken into her home?

Sitting up with a rush of adrenaline, Jeri Hogarth was faced with quite literally the last person she expected to see standing over her bed with that expression like a cracked sidewalk. _Jessica Jones._

She would have expected anyone else, she knew, as the cement like feeling of dread in her stomach began to soften. A home invader, Pam, even Wendy for Christ's sake – but not Jessica, who she hadn't seen in a week. Jessica who she rarely saw ever. Jessica who only ever seemed to show up when she had an agenda. 

But yet, there she was with that shattered glass look. Relaxing at the familiarity, Hogarth reclined back slightly onto her headboard and examined the peculiar intruder with some expectancy before deciding to be the first to speak. “Did you break into my apartment?” 

Jessica scoffed. “You should've answered your phone.” 

“I always answer my phone,” Hogarth responded with an impeccable air of confidence, before she remembered. The phone. She glanced at it sitting on her dresser, dormant, and wondered vaguely how many missed calls she would have if she were to check it. “Jessica – did you break my door?” 

Jessica glanced down at her and then glanced away. Something was on her mind but she was choosing to not cut to the chase about it this time, for some reason. Even though she was notorious for being quick and painless with her conversations, which was honestly one of her better qualities in Jeri's opinion. 

“I didn't use the door,” She said finally, arms gangling at her sides. 

“What do you want?” Now it was Jeri's turn to cut to the chase. She continued to gaze at Jessica, who stood in the middle of the room now, restless. 

She gazed back, with a tired stare that was perhaps a little too prolonged, and then she stated her business much as expected: “I need to get paid for the Spheeris job now.” 

“Right now? As in right this minute?” Hogarth asked incredulously, hoping to shut her surprise guest down with her facial expression alone. But Jessica remained, staring at her from the center of her room that was lit by nothing but the light in the hallway that she didn't remember leaving on. She remained, hovering there with an air of desperation frequenting the air molecules around her like a spreading cold. 

If blatant sarcasm didn't do the trick, then sheer rationality would. “Jessica. You'll get your pay on Monday, just as you have every other week of your – ”

“No, I need it tonight.” 

Rationality might have worked, she considered, if her antsy intruder could give her enough time to finish a sentence before cutting her off. No matter, she thought – there was nothing she could do to remedy this situation one way or the other. “The office isn't even open tonight. And pay office won't be until Monday, when you'll get your pay.” 

This of course, didn't seem to satisfy her – as was the norm for Jessica. Things just couldn't, wouldn't be that simple with her. It never was. She was always in a rush. Whether it was about getting the next case or now, getting her pay, _that's all I can do_ was never an appropriate answer for Jessica. 

“I can't wait until Monday.” There was a tone of urgency to her words, one that even Hogarth with the occasional selective hearing couldn't ignore. She could ignore hearing that Jessica had threatened a client to get the job done, pretending she didn't hear it. She could pretend to not have heard the protests of a stubborn client and gone on to do what she knew to be the best move. But she couldn't ignore this, somehow. It was screaming for someone to acknowledge it. But did it have to be her? It was the middle of the night, for god's sake. 

Knowing it wouldn't be the right response, she pushed the words through her throat and out her mouth anyway. “That's all I can do. Monday, Jessica.” 

A minute or two of silence passed by, before Hogarth shrugged her shoulders at the still smoldering gaze of Jessica. “I'm assuming at this point that I don't need to show you the door.” 

“I told you, I didn't use the goddamn – ”

“You know where the window is, then.” Hogarth said coldly, but then again, much of anything she said was expressed with the tone of a true ice queen. “You can see yourself out.” 

Hogarth resumed lying in bed, her back turned to Jessica, thinking about how it was only this odd bird who would have the nerve to break into someone's house demanding a pay check. She lay there a time, eyes closed but mind jumping and racing. She had no hope of sleeping when she still heard Jessica fumbling behind her. Wringing her hands, shuffling her feet along Jeri's carpet, and for some reason undetermined she still hadn't made herself scarce. 

At some point Hogarth felt the other woman's shadow fall upon her, and she hoped with an exhausted and irritated fury that she was entering the hallway to leave. But when Jeri opened her eyes and risked a glance, she saw that she had simply chosen another place to linger. This time it was in the doorway, the shadow of her messy exterior falling gently across the bedroom floor and the bed. 

She seemed to be contemplating something heavily with her mind, battling some sort of demon encased inside – and Jeri decided that she had to break her silence and try again. Sitting up and feeling somehow less irritated than she did completely, soberly finished with this entire situation, she focused her eyes on Jessica again who seemed a little startled by the sudden voice. 

“What are you in such a hurry about?” 

Jessica turned to look at Jeri again, and the mostly uptight lawyer saw that desperation flash through her eyes again. But then it was gone, and what remained was about as expressive as a pile of saw dust. “I just need it. You're gonna have to give me a loan.” 

“I don't have to give you anything.” Jeri felt her irritability come back in an instant flash, and then fall again almost instantly. There were ways to handle this, she knew, that didn't equate to screaming and shouting and having a nosy neighbor calling the police on them. No, she could rid herself of this situation pretty easily. “That's not how I operate. You're going to have to ask a friend.” 

“I don't have any goddamn friends,” Jessica snapped back, still leaning on the door frame, looking as persistent as ever. She had an answer for everything, Jeri realized with solid dread.

There was a staring contest of sorts, but nothing near at all to understanding passed through the women. “I don't know what to tell you, Jessica,” Hogarth said with a sigh that she narrowly prevented from evolving into a yawn, “except that you're going to have to wait like everybody else.”

The distress the younger woman was emanating like a pheromone seemed to be heightened momentarily, and she opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off before it could make itself known. She chewed on her lip. Her eyes seemed to be communicating something he mouth refused to voice. 

Hogarth realized, with a certain and somehow familiar feeling of overstepping her boundaries, that as odd as Jessica was, she had never seen the other woman act this was before. There was something rattling her cage, alright – and despite how she tried to keep it under wraps she couldn't seal every crack in her facade. 

“What in the name of god is the matter with you?” If Jessica was as antsy as this, it had to be serious. She was a woman, much like Hogarth herself, who kept her impeccable poker face and air of self control in all situations. Even in situations where she felt like she had no control whatsoever, Hogarth imagined. There was some kind of boulder weighing her down. Something so greatly stressful that she didn't seem to want to take the time to keep up appearances. That was major. 

Jessica strode across the room now, in a way that made it seem almost as if she wasn't sure she wanted to. But she eventually progressed across the room and took a seat on the foot of Hogarth's bed without invitation. Typical. 

“Nothing,” She lied, her shoulders tense and her demeanor entirely unpleasant. “I just need to get a plane ticket.” 

Was a family member dying? A friend in a different state in desperate need? If it was something important, Hogarth wished she would just blurt it out already. “Stop being vague.”

Jessica turned her now in a fury, rage riding on the snarl of her lips like an animal ready to administer a ruthless bite. But she held it back, it seemed, whatever it was, and a hollow sigh came to replace it. The sour scent of alcohol riding on her breath became known to Hogarth, and it simply added to her list of complications this situation had. Was she drunk? Wouldn't be out of the ordinary, but how drunk was ordinary and how drunk was surprising or strange, she had no way of knowing.

“Look, Hogarth, I don't want to give you all the gory details. I don't give a shit if it's vague, it's the truth.” Jessica was as stubborn and foreboding as ever, sitting there on the edge of Jeri's bed like a bad omen. If that was all there was to it, wasn't their conversation over, then? Why was she still here? 

“Jessica – ”

“I need the money.” 

“It's not going to happen,” Jeri responded, feeling that their interactions were rendering her numb. How many times did she have to repeat herself before the words somehow found their way from the air of her bedroom to the high security space between this young woman's ears? 

The way she tapped her foot on the floor anxiously was making her come off as distinctly more paranoid than usual. Which was pretty damn paranoid. Neither woman said anything for a time, and Hogarth just paid close attention to the shaking of the mattress that came with this incessant tapping. She was acting very unusual, and it was throwing the usually pristine lawyer off her game. Jessica and she were used to mentally battling one another. It was a game of wits every time they saw each other, and this relationship they had liken to but perhaps not as harsh as enemies was something Jeri depended on with her. They kept each other sharp. 

But this? It was fascinatingly out of character. Or maybe it wasn't, and what Jeri had been seeing for months was simply Jessica's own unique spin on the “business as usual”. Either way, Jeri found herself extending a hand out to this stranger of a woman, this lump, at the foot of her bed. 

She was almost afraid to make contact, because she was acting like more of a loose canon than she ever had before. But at the same time, maybe it was the only way to get an answer out of her. Maybe it was the only way to break this employer-and-employee like ice that surrounded them.

Jeri, somewhat awkwardly, rested her hand on Jessica's thin, tight shoulder. She could feel its boniness even under her jacket. Hogarth wasn't someone who much liked, or was used to comforting people. It simply wasn't something she excelled in. She never knew what to say, because quite frankly, she liked to have control. If she could advise someone or help them to make the right decision, comforting was a little easier. But when it came to simple creature comforts – a warm smile, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold – she simply fell short. And Jeri Hogarth didn't fall short on much.

Not being able to stand the way Jessica's movements entirely ceased with the weight of the hand on her shoulder, Jeri quickly began to rub the small, tense muscle there with some air of experience. Jessica relaxed a little into her touch, and the older woman rubbed away the knot that seemed to be drawn up tight there. 

Jessica leaned her elbows on her knees and slumped against Hogarth's pressure, and the first gesture of relaxation since she had come in seemed to wash over her. It was faint, and probably wouldn't last long. “Are you drunk?” Jeri asked, unsure if she should have or not. Either way she was quite certain she knew the answer.

As expected, Jessica dodged the question and moved onward past it. “I need the money for a plane ticket to Hong Kong.” 

“You're going to Hong Kong.” It was more of a statement than a question, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all caused her to momentarily stop working the circles into the younger woman's flesh. “Tonight.”

“I need to. If I don't – ” But she cut herself short and sealed those lips that were obviously aching to speak and said nothing more. Jeri was gaining more hope of getting her adversary talking now than she had before, however – and so she moved onto the other shoulder and continued the casual massage.

“Are you running from the law?” It was a plausible presumption. Jessica, she was certain even without confirmation, did a lot of things that were outside the rule book. She did things her own way, as she had aptly proved by invading someone's home because they didn't answer the phone. 

“No,” She scoffed again, her voice rising, spiky. “If I was running from the law do you really think I'd come to a lawyer?” 

Jeri nodded to herself in the semi darkness. Fair enough. “Then what is – ”

“Somebody's after me. Somebody dangerous. And if I don't leave the country I won't be able to protect myself. Or anyone else.” 

Now we're getting somewhere, Jeri found herself thinking, squeezing the taught muscle in her hands and rolling the stiffness out of Jessica. “So because someone is looking for you, you're...going to Hong Kong.” 

Hogarth had to admit, it just didn't add up. Could one person truly be so dangerous? All the characters Jessica dealt with, all the activities she got herself involved in both willingly and unwillingly, and because of one person, she was running. Not to the other side of the state, either, or the other side of the country even – the other side of the world. 

“Yeah.” Came the lackluster response, void of any other details to give. So instead she just sat there on the end of an almost stranger's bed, despondent, absorbing the physical contact like a sponge. 

Jeri let loose a little sigh. Whoever this person was, they must have been quite a mighty force – that, or other forces were at play. Other forces that she was beginning to believe were responsible for this. “I think you're drunk and acting irrationally. You should sleep whatever is wrong with you off, and re consider in the morning.”

Jessica didn't even respond to this. It was rare that this whirlwind woman was at a loss for words. Jeri almost found herself at the same crossroads. Drunk and impulsive didn't usually entail unresponsive. Usually it translated to far too responsive.

“If you need a place to stay, you're welcome to my couch, Jessica.” Jeri said with a sigh that was almost exclusively exhaustion and frustration. Truthfully, she wasn't much akin to the idea of Jessica on her couch – but she would be gone early in the morning for work and a day full of meetings and wouldn't have to worry about it. Jessica could let herself out and then both of them could attempt to forget this strenuous evening that was beginning to rest far too heavily on her nerves. 

Hogarth let her hand trail a little, sliding it from her shoulder to her neck, gravitating towards her scalp without even thinking. It often works to calm Pam, she thought, when she was in a similar sort of mood. Stress. Inability to sleep. Inability to be calm. 

But just as her spider fingers got to the jumbled locks of dark hair, Jessica whirled around with likeness to a hurricane and snatched Hogarth's hand away as if taking some kind of personal offence. The lawyer could feel the strength the other woman possessed in those fingers as they were coiled around her wrist, holding her hand away and refusing to let go. 

Jessica's eyes were fierce now, glowing with her disapproval in the semi darkness. Jeri attempted to move her wrist but found it an impossible feat to even attempt, the pressure that was focused there taught and immovable. 

Jessica's glower didn't budge, and she didn't dare break the eye contact as she let the next sentence roll off her tongue. “That's not what I came here for.” 

The strong, spiced scent of booze hit Jeri in the face again, and she thought to herself that Jessica must be stinking drunk. How much could she have consumed before stumbling down the street to Hogarth's house? And yet, none of the tell tale signs of drunkenness were present. Her speech was clear as a thin pane of glass, her movements still sleek and agile albeit a little ungraceful. But no more ungraceful than they normally would be. 

In fact, Hogarth would have sworn she was as sober as she was ordinarily – however sober or not sober that was – the only things striking her as unusual were the spikes of anxiety that hung off of her frame like icicles. Not attempting to move her wrist from where it was locked in her young visitor's vice grip, Jeri said the only thing she could think of in the moment. 

“Well as I've told you already – what you came here for you're not going to get.” 

The words were harsh. Definite. Final. But Jessica Jones wasn't standing down, just as expected. Jeri began to notice other things now, besides her breath that was the sheer scent of debauchery. She noticed how close her own face was to Jessica's pale one that seemed to glow in the dimness of her room. She noticed how close her own lips were – just a few inches, surely – to Jessica's tiny knot of a mouth, drawn up in her disapproval. She noticed the needy grip this other woman had on her wrist, still refusing to let go as if she had forgotten she was even doing it. 

Hogarth thought for a moment that it was like they were frozen in some subliminal subconscious. Time moved slowly. The intensity of the moment was like a bubble capturing them and separating them from the conventions of the minutes that passed them by. 

Jeri felt the thought creeping up on her, and before long it exploded in her mind. _She's not my type._ Jessica wasn't her type, and yet, she felt her eyes fixated on the younger woman's lips. Fixed entirely on what it might feel like, perhaps, to – no. She wouldn't let her mind finish the thought or allow it to graze the possibility. This was a mistake waiting to happen, flashing red lights and sirens in front of her. And yet, the longer they remained in silence, the darker Hogarth's thoughts became. Thoughts that whatever was happening to her was coming over Jessica as well. Thoughts that it would be so easy to pin Jessica to the bed and let loose. To further dishevel her hair, to bite those always sharp and sarcastic lips until they were sore. To wrestle her out of that goddamn leather jacket and those jeans that Jeri despised so deeply. 

It was this last thought that shook the foundation, albeit slightly. It was slight, but it was just enough to tip the scales in favor of her spontaneous desire. Jeri jutted outwards, fixing her available hand onto the back of her adversary's neck, not an ounce of hesitance present despite Jessica's usual unpredictable nature. 

She took Jessica's lips to her own, for once in her usually quite practical life, not considering the consequences. This could blow up in her face, and yet somehow, she didn't care. She could taste the bitter sensation of alcohol consumed on her tongue as she invaded Jessica's hot mouth, simply taking what she wanted. But she became aware, the tightening of her abdomen quickly to follow, that she didn't seem to be the only one indulging. 

Jessica's hand finally released her wrist (now that it was practically throbbing, she noticed dully) and instead latched her rough hands onto the collar of Jeri's shirt. With no effort utilized, she used the garment to jerk Hogarth forward into the kiss, deepening its intimacy and ultimately, showing how risky she was willing to get. 

When the kiss broke, Jessica let her grip on Hogarth's clothes grow loose, but it didn't stall or dull the fire Jeri was undoubtedly feeling inside her gut at that moment. The incineration of desire was running its course through her, burning up her veins like potent acid.

Desire for this woman who was not her type, and yet who she wanted to fully ruin, no matter how much it would mess up her perfectly neat bed layers. 

Suddenly, Jessica spoke, and Hogarth could feel the warm caress of her breath on her own lips. It busted her out of her indulgent thoughts like a rude shake to the shoulder. “I think you're drunk and acting irrationally.” 

Whatever way the words were spoken – their breathlessness, their sharp core, their limitless sarcasm, their deliberate mocking tone – it was elicited to Jeri Hogarth like a challenge. And those she rarely passed up. Perhaps it was the other woman's slightly trembling hands as they still hung around her collar. It could have been how their thighs delicately touched now, Jessica having shifted slightly closer in their spontaneous kiss. 

Jeri Hogarth knew, with a sudden, infallible sense of being right, that there was no going back for her now. There was something in the atmosphere that insisted to her now that she would have Jessica Jones, and insisted to her almost more powerfully that it was Jessica who wanted so fleetingly to be had. Her shaking hands fumbled at Hogarth's collar, a little pressure drawing her nearer – or perhaps it was her imagination. 

Either way, Jessica's solid smirk and this challenge of a phrase egged her on to the point of consummation. Whether Jessica had actually come to her home for money or for something else, Jeri began to grow cautiously uncertain. Jessica reacted just as desired to Hogarth's hand about the back of her neck, reeling her in for another kiss. 

Perhaps it was all in a very active, very fruitful imagination – and if that was the case, Hogarth discerned, her imagination would be getting her into a lot of trouble this evening.

Tearing the blankets from her body in a controlled gesture of dominance, Hogarth began pulling Jessica to her, coveting the body in front of her. Jessica responded well to touch, jolting towards Hogarth as if she had all this time been waiting for the opportunity. The younger woman straddled one of Jeri's thighs, half in her lap and half not, extending her neck to the lawyer's seeking jaw. 

Jeri quickly obliged to this position shift, lathering the woman's neck in hard kisses and basking in the immediate shudder that followed. Jessica had been, she realized, up to that point like a complicated figment of her imagination. Something not real, that just flitted in and out of her office like clockwork. A ghost. Some kind of presence, heavy, but at the same time only a vision. A mirage. 

But here, suddenly, she was real. She felt like matter, her weight upon Hogarth's leg and her fingers running lines through the other woman's cropped hair. She wasn't sure what had prompted this realization, but it was like Jessica only became something real, something tangible, when Jeri found herself kneading her fingers into the warm skin on her back. 

Something had been missing before. Jeri shifted just enough generous pressure into an upward movement that provided friction exactly where Jessica seemed to be needing it most. Hogarth felt the brunette above her grind down hard on her leg, an inadvertent buck of the hips, visibly craving any sort of friction. A hitch of breath somewhere near her ear. _So real._

Whatever had been missing before, it was suddenly present with all the fight and the fire of dragon's breath. Jeri roamed the body before her freely, saturating Jessica's skin in firm caresses. She gnawed and sucked on the soft flesh of her neck and reveled in the arms about her neck and shoulders, tightening, and the almost rhythmic buckling down of thirsty hips onto her leg. 

Jeri's mind was a blur, but she still managed to hone in on the thought that had crossed her mind earlier in the night. She was going to just crawl into an old t-shirt and call it a night – but instead she had opted for something warmer in the form of a button down fleece. 

This, she saw, was a mistake when she felt Jessica's quick hands fumbling for her buttons. She knew what was going to happen before it did, but her reactions were simply not on par in her muddled, aroused state of mind.

Jessica hooked her fingers into the top and simply pulled, letting each individual button give way under the immaculate strength that gathered impossibly in her knuckles. Jeri felt the brush of air immediately on her exposed body, and heard the delicate ping of one of her buttons careening across the room and striking the window, another firing like an asteroid into the wall. 

She could see Jessica's shameless grin even in their lucid amount of light, and Jeri supposed she was either very inexperienced with unfastening buttons in a timely manner to not ruin the mood; that it had been a pure, spontaneous action; or that quite frankly she didn't care. Hogarth assumed without much analysis that it was the latter. 

Either way, it didn't matter – this move had pushed Hogarth over the edge. Perhaps overstepping her boundaries in the face of Jessica's anomaly like strength without even realizing, she bucked the other woman off of her enough to gain footing. Then she circled her arms about her waist, full intentions set on pinning this aggravating, reckless, _real_ pain in her ass against the mattress. 

Jeri didn't realize what she was doing until half way through her endeavor, her initial thought being one of annoyance that the ever smart-assed Jessica Jones probably would use her unnaturalness to her advantage. But to her astonishment and to the quicker paces of her heart, Jessica let herself be pulled and slammed down onto the pillow in a show of mercilessness. 

Hogarth took the implications to heart, knowing fully now that she didn't have to hold back. Jessica had allowed her to get one over on her. That happened rarely, from what Hogarth had observed about the woman – and they both were well aware that she had more than enough power to turn the tides or resist if that had been her focus.

But no, she allowed herself to be successfully benched to the confines of the bed, Jeri's shadow from the hall light falling seductively on her sprawled body. She had swallowed her pride for once because she too, wanted this as much as Hogarth suddenly and desperately did.

Jessica wrestled her arms out of her leather, leaving the jacket to rest between her back and the mattress under her. She emerged from that most hated cocoon in just a tank top, and Jeri found she liked these prospects better already as she moved again towards the bed and the most unexpected bed partner who waited for her there in a cool faced show of control. 

When Jeri climbed onto the mattress, it didn't make a squeak in all its newness. The only sound she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears, a thunderous, distant thumping. Before long Jessica was beneath her, and she was quick to discover how her younger adversary was all teeth and nails. 

She latched onto Jeri's neck like some kind of vampire, sinking fine straight teeth into her flesh in a way that was so sudden it made Jeri gasp. It seemed Jessica, she thought, had full intentions of giving her a hickey or some other intimate mark. Normally, marks of any kind were against Hogarth's bedroom rules – she had a certain reputation to uphold after all – but tonight it felt like pure ecstasy. And part of her reputation, of course, was not being afraid to break the rules once in a while. 

And so she let Jessica grip the back of her neck and her shoulders with her short nubs of fingernails, still somehow sharp despite their brittle lack of length. She let Jessica do as she pleased, and instead focused her hands elsewhere, primarily on wrestling the other woman's petite breasts out of her tank top. 

Hogarth pulled the stretchy material down, exposing a bra composed of thin black fabric and wire, so thin that she could feel the hardened pucker of her nipples even though them. She could feel Jessica creak out some kind of noise when she pinched one of them, hard, not caring whether it hurt or not at that point. 

Jessica had drawn her into this web – this trap of sexual fury and undeniable urging. She had drawn her in, Hogarth knew it by the way she gasped, mouth purposefully close to the other woman's ear so as to maximize the mousy sound when a sensitive nipple was tweaked. By the way she thrust her hips and clawed with her fingers. Maybe she had come here for a paycheck, but both women were aware of the mutual mistake that this evening had become. Aware of it but not quite able to resist; aware of what this had turned into, and the sorts of challenges that might arise from it in the often brutal aftermath of casual sex within the workplace.

Either way, Jeri Hogarth did not stray from her desires, she did not overthink. She ignored the hickey she knew, as if with its own particular weight, was plastered across her neck, and dove for Jessica's mouth. Quick, nimble hands worked away at what remained of Hogarth's ruined pajama shirt, hauling it off her shoulders, pushing it away as if its very presence was an insult. It slid down her arms to her elbows and down her back with a tickle, and she pulled herself up enough to fully remove it and toss it across the room. 

This time, when Hogarth allowed Jessica's mouth to be free from her charming tongue, her lips returned to Jeri's already reddened skin, lowering their gaze slightly this time to her right breast. Her animal teeth were shocking but somehow pleasant, and Jeri grappled the other woman's hands once again expecting a show of strength, a fight, that she simply didn't get.

Jessica's hands went down under Jeri's own, flattening to the pillow so hard that the clap was audible. The younger woman bit down harder on Jeri's skin and she felt a groan riding on her lips that she couldn't quite control. 

Jessica's lovemaking was quick, spontaneous, rough and animal like – but at the same time, quite the show of her own resilience and ability to avoid bashfulness in the face of getting what she wanted. Something in her touch was loving. In the care she took to not let her reckless fingers and hard white teeth over indulge and bring harm, like both women very duly knew she could. Jeri felt that she could learn a lot about a person from their bedroom behavior. It made the squirmy woman beneath her somewhat less of a mystery, and she smirked a little to herself in the dark. _I'll figure you out, Jessica Jones._

She kept Jessica's hands imprinted into the memory foam of her pillows for as long as she wanted, the brunette beneath her not trying once to pull away, to steal control of the lead. She seemed to be going with the flow, almost, her only show of force resonating with her jaw when she kissed Hogarth with the true motivation of lust. The motivation of enemies. Or perhaps that was too harsh of a word.

Jeri lifted her body just enough, nothing Jessica's partly revealed stomach and almost cruelly cute belly button as she did so, looking down to search for the button to those most despised jeans so that she could really move onto the next step. 

At this point, the lust ravaged lawyer wanted Jessica more than she remembered wanting anything in quite some time. The desire was almost unbearable, filling the atmosphere thickly, like water she could drown in. Like a whirlpool.

Jeri felt that her apartment could be on fire and she would die from smoke inhalation before she would give up this moment, or even consider abandoning the treasure that lay waiting in front of her. She wanted to fuck Jessica Jones, until the younger woman's hasty fire was nothing but flickering embers. She wanted to fuck Jessica so hard and so fully that it would crack her bed frame, or chip the delicate paint off the walls. She didn't care how new the place was or how much she might regret it in the morning.

Though she knew from the moment she leaned out for that first risky kiss that she had wanted this, the utter desire spiked in her, increasing in volume and speed like her heart beat. She found the button and grappled with it, fought it, fumbled with it – her composure being swallowed by the haste to get in the other woman's pants, she noted, something that was rare for someone so well versed – and so she pulled back, sitting up on her haunches where the fasten of Jessica's pants was much more accessible. 

It took her no time with the adjustment, and in seconds the button was flipped aside and the fly zipped successfully down. But before Jeri could get to the waist band and ultimately, her vantage point for removing them, Jessica sprang up.

It startled the older woman, wondering briefly (very briefly, truly, because rarely did Hogarth have doubts about her abilities) if the reckless PI was having some racing, albeit dangerous second thoughts about where this encounter was going. 

However, Jeri was pleased to note that it was really just a position change that was in order, whether it was because Jessica was uncomfortable or because she simply preferred it. Neither way did it matter. Jessica was back on to Hogarth now, and the lawyer watched her curiously from her spot near the foot of the bed. 

Jessica let her body fall back onto Hogarth, like some uncalled for trust exercise, wrapping her arms about the other woman's neck backwards and turning her face to the side to go at her neck again. Sharp teeth nipping at Jeri's ear lobe, the sound of the stud earring she still wore clacking off of teeth in an almost deliciously unique sound. Interesting, Jeri thought, but she would most certainly oblige. 

Deciding with an iron will, despite the pleasure it elicited inside of her, that two blatant marks were enough, Jeri figured that it was time she took charge. She gripped the back of Jessica's head with one of her hands, taking a firm hold of a handful of dark hair as she did so. The serious woman took no time to hesitate or even consider her next move as she forced Jessica's head towards the mattress. 

Just as expected at this point, Jessica allowed Jeri to overpower her, and it filled Jeri with a certain potent, inescapable brand of lust as the younger woman fell to knees and elbows, face lowered towards the messed sheets as Hogarth's hand snaked around to the front of her body. 

Hogarth, still feeling that urgency, that sense of being physically unable to wait any longer coursing through her veins, jammed her right hand down the open front of Jessica's jeans. She slipped into the denim and behind the thin panties that lay underneath without a second thought, listening to the groan somewhere beneath her resound at the first contact with warm wetness. 

Jeri didn't hesitate in her heightened state, and she felt just as much as heard the cry below her that resounded at the instance of first penetration. Two of Jeri's fingers had found their way inside the her mystery guest with ease, and Jessica's body seemed to convulse ever so slightly with what Jeri only assumed was at this point long anticipated contact. If she had learned anything about Jessica so far, it seemed she wasn't one for an overwhelming amount of foreplay. In fact, she hardly liked any at all.

Jeri found that Jessica was highly slick, highly accommodating, and she found no difficulty in easing a third finger into the crowded, soft space. She jerked the younger woman towards her with a deep thrust, further bending her back, feeling the tingle of excitement riding her spine at the other woman's hard moan. 

Rationality couldn't have been further away in those moments. Those moments where she let Jessica ride her, fully swallowing her hand up to the knuckles with the aid of gravity and her own bucking hips. Those moments where she was almost sick with desire. Where she felt spurred on to the point where the bed was nearly shaking, headboard threatening a collision with the wall with each thrust. Her mind was numb as she listened to Jessica's mewls, her louder-than-expected groans, her “Jesus Hogarth”'s, her fingernails slashing and grabbing at the sheets under her – it was like some kind of strange dream, or an out of body experience. 

Jeri realized, as she fucked her with the same ferocity that she had imagined, that was was something she had been wanting for far longer than just that evening. Perhaps it came and went from her system the same way Jessica did from her office on the regular. Perhaps it was a feeling that her brain only chose to flirt with while she slept. Either way, whether dormant or active, it had somehow been effecting her. Like a a cold she didn't realize she was catching. Like a disease.

As she prepared herself for what she knew was next, she didn't slow down or relax, or give Jessica time to prepare. She planned thoroughly – almost meticulously, at this point – to toss Jessica headlong into her orgasm without warning. But she could tell it was approaching the younger woman by the strain of her voice, and the distinct trembling of her arms that supported her through all of Jeri's ravenous thrusting. 

Although it had been going on for quite some time, the entire experience in itself – from Jessica waking her, to the latter woman's body deliciously prostrate on her bed – felt like it started and ended in the span of ten minutes. Hogarth had thought with her own high degree of confidence or with Jessica's appearance of eagerness, that she would have come a lot sooner than she did – but just as Jeri was thinking it, coveting the private thought, she felt the younger woman coming undone beneath her. Jeri was breaking her, she could feel it as distinctly as a handshake. She was a tangle that was finally becoming unbound.

Jessica's frame seemed to seize up in tightness as she let go of the troubled conventions that had brought her here, finally letting herself break lose of all restraints. She choked out a moan that was equal parts exhaustion and euphoria, and only now did Jeri began to slow her strokes down and allow the reckless guest a simple moment to catch her breath. 

A few minutes of this slow lovemaking, that would have been seen as almost tender or loving if Jeri hadn't known herself better, and she withdrew from Jessica's hot pleasure point with some reluctance. Despite the amazing experience it was, and how undeniably sexy it had felt to be in control of the one woman she thought she would never get that luxury with, Jeri somehow felt like it wasn't over. 

Sitting up taller on her knees, she eyed the truly disheveled mess that Jessica Jones, PI, was now. Even more so than when she had come in, even if the callous lawyer had thought that not possible. Her tank top had ridden up her back almost to the bra clasp, her hair was a mass of shadows on a dipped skull that panted for air. 

Almost sympathetically, which was a strange feeling since she knew that Jessica had enjoyed the impromptu romp just as well as she had, Jeri placed a palm squarely on her spine and that was all it took. Jessica collapsed in a lump on the mattress. 

Hogarth was feeling the strain of their encounter as well, having barely noticed the drippings of sweat on the base of her neck and along her back. The arm muscle of the hand she had used on Jessica thudded dully like she had just done a hefty workout at the gym. She too, was doing her fair share of heavy breathing, as she lay down on the side of the bed closest to the wall. 

The women lay there for a moment or two, catching their breath – perhaps reflecting on what had just happened. Hogarth knew that she was, since her insatiable appetite seemed to no longer be blocking out her rational thinking. She wondered if Jessica, too, was thinking about it, and what her inferences were. Usually she didn't want Jessica's opinion – she often was content with her own and didn't need further counselling – but this time what the woman was thinking was an intriguing matter to her. Was it something she had been planning in any respect? By morning would it all be just an incomprehensible image surrounded by the fog of intoxication and unaccountability? Was she regretting it immediately? 

Hogarth caught her breath before Jessica did, but the dark haired mystery woman shifted nonetheless, getting comfortable on her back and gazing at the ceiling. Hogarth stole a glance – uncertain of why at the time but choosing to selectively ignore that – but before long she had focused her eyes back at the pallid white ceiling that reminded her somewhat of a hospital.

Just as she did so, Jessica croaked out a sentence. It was choppy and between her sharpened, quickened breaths, but it was as snarky as ever, nonetheless – and sarcastic, always with the sarcasm. “What, you tired already Hogarth?”

Jeri scoffed at this, finding herself with a brilliantly ridiculous – brilliantly horrible – smile plastered across her features that she hoped Jessica wouldn't take note of. It faded in no time, but she didn't humor her over enthusiastic bed partner with an answer. Which was fine, so it seemed, because Jessica continued without hesitation. 

“Because I can go all night. Just so you know. I don't get tired.” This was a definitive remark, like a fact read from an encyclopedia, and yet Hogarth somehow didn't quite believe her. Her voice, and the weight she seemed to carry with it, sounded like she was dying a hundred fatigued deaths. 

_What is this_ , Jeri found herself thinking, the smile that had faded being reignited as a smirk and then distancing itself yet again. Jessica Jones was a character – no, more than that. She thought she would discover more behind her motives from their little experiment, but she had come up empty. Besides the obvious things – she was the kind of girl who liked it rough and probably gave it that way too, no foreplay necessary. All hair pulling, teeth biting and nail clawing, and that innately, she cared enough not to bring harm – but otherwise, her mind was vacant. 

What made this anomaly tick? What were her motives ever, but especially right now? It was one of the most bizarre things to have happened to Jeri in recent months, and as far as the minutes afterwards were concerned, she didn't regret it one bit. What the harsh, judgmental morning light would have to say about it, however, she didn't know. 

Either way, unsure of how to answer, or if she even should, Jeri Hogarth remained lying there, staring at the ceiling. She pondered this strange woman lying beside her until it made her brain hurt. Her sweat eventually dried and cooled, making her break out in goosebumps and an uninvited shiver. She felt her sanity returning to her, and yet, despite all her eagerness, Jessica's breathing had slowed and she was all silence now. No new moves were made, she didn't even shift her position. 

“If you want a round two, you're going to have to make it quick,” Hogarth warned in her best, stern tone, “because you have to hit the couch soon. I have a day full of meetings tomorrow and absolutely cannot risk being tired.” 

Whether her spiel, contended after such a long gap of silence was too much for Jessica's mind, muddled as it was by alcohol and anxiety and sex, to comprehend, Jeri couldn't be sure. All she did know was that the woman was eerily silent now. It didn't take long for suspicions to rise in the lawyer's mind about what had truly gone on. 

She climbed out of the bed, not taking any care not to shake it, and stood on her floor. Still not a movement. She could see in the semi darkness from the hall light the younger woman's pallid face, and her eyes were closed, mouth looking partly agape. 

_I don't get tired. If that's your story, Jones,_ Jeri thought with a half smirk risking an appearance on stoic lips, _it could use some work._

She went to the corner and switched on the lamp on her dresser. It made the room much more illuminated – Jeri's ruined shirt on the floor by the heater, several of her buttons scattered about that she contemplated gathering. Jessica's leather jacket having progressed to the floor just beside her end table in the vigor of their sex. The place was undoubtedly a mess, but that would have to wait until the morning, if not, the evening, tomorrow.

Jeri went into the hall and switched off that light, not wanting to make it too bright. Then she returned to her room, eyeing Jessica's sleeping form almost wearily. It was like she feared even walking towards her would wake her and start the whole painful visit over from the start. The start had been unbearable, but the end bliss – and those were the types of stories Jeri found herself in more often than not. 

In the end she approached the sleeping figure, absentmindedly brushing a lock of dark hair from her pale face. Her eyes, shut, still held the clinging shadow of dark circles. Exhausted eyes. Jeri felt a flash of rare sympathy again, unsure from where it was emerging. This woman, she thought, was battling far more demons than anyone knew or perhaps ever would know. This she was certain of without even having to ask. 

Either way, Jessica was out cold, and it didn't seem like she had any intentions of getting up to migrate to the couch. And Hogarth considered disturbing her – but as she had already dwelt upon, it would only make the night more strenuous for them both and they perhaps had already had enough of one, in both good and bad ways.

It was fine, Hogarth told herself. Jessica could sleep here for the night. She thought that maybe she would go to the couch, but the immediate fire back from her soundly working mind was that would wreak havoc on her neck for tomorrow, which she certainly didn't want. So, it's fine, she told herself again with the patients she was surprised she could scrounge up – she would sleep there with Jessica. She would be gone early – it would be a non issue. 

Her own serious, sober, no nonsense thoughts helped her to feel more as though she were standing on solid ground again, for the first time in some hours. She would, however, if she wanted to be presentable at all, take a shower. It was late, but that didn't matter. Keeping up appearances was everything, and even though she had had a night of fulfilling, shameless sex with someone she barely knew, her appearance certainly didn't need to reflect that. 

Decision made, Jeri started to progress out of the room, when something about Jessica yet again seemed to steal her eyes and kidnap her attention. It was like an endless cycle that night. 

She noticed that Jessica still had her shoes on. Somehow, through everything that had occurred and how intimate they had gotten, Hogarth hadn't even taken note of this singular little detail. And now there she was, lying in her sort-of boss's bed with her shoes on and her jeans shamelessly undone. 

Without thinking, Jeri crossed the room with some haste and carefully pulled Jessica's feet out of her boots. She took one off, and glanced up at the sleeping woman. Not even a twitch. So it was so far, so good, and she removed the second one, moving them to the floor by the foot of the bed. 

Unsure of why she was doing it and even more uncertain of why she hadn't fathomed any excuses yet, Hogarth looped her fingers into the waistband of Jessica's already very open jeans, and started to pull them off the thighs of the sleeping figure before her. At this motion – a little more difficult than shoes, as it was – Hogarth saw a scrunch in her expression, a twist in her movements, her arm switching places, but that was all. And by the time the older woman had slithered the denim off of Jessica's exhausted legs, she was as still as air and just as quiet once again. Passed out from drinking or sheer exhaustion, Jeri wasn't sure – but either way, something about the utter calm resting on her face said that she sorely needed the sleep.

She threw the jeans to the clothes graveyard with her ruined shirt, and hastily pulled the blankets that were strewn around the foot of the bed, up around Jessica's half stripped body. She pulled them up past the modest mound of her breast, and left it at that, rushing over to the lamp as if in urgency that some hidden presence had witnessed what she was doing. 

As she left the room for the washroom, the excuses that had been so severed before jumped up as if slightly delayed. _She looked uncomfortable. I don't want her waking up and inconveniencing me. Besides, she's not going to wear her dirty shoes in my new bed._

Jeri shook her head as if to cease the almost compulsive justifications that popped up in her head. She let the truth filter in, and absorbed it with a strong semblance of acceptance. She knew that she did it because she felt some degree of pity for this woman who looked utterly spent. And she did look incredibly soft, almost delicate when she slept, which was something Jeri had a hard time admitting, even to herself, with a straight face. What with how Jessica looked and acted on a daily basis, soft and delicate would never be appropriate words. But she supposed everyone could be different if caught in the right moment. She supposed she wanted to protect, in some ways, that private moment, that private softness – preserve it, even for just a night. The ever rude, bitter, business as usual Jessica would never have to know about it. That comforted her, and left her feeling less bare.

The main problem she was having, however, is that she didn't even know what she was so worried about. Jessica Jones was, if anything, flighty. Hogarth had no way of knowing if she'd even still be there when she returned to wrangle some much needed sleep. Just like any other person, she could wake flustered – or embarrassed, or angry, or confused – about what had happened and ditch. Hogarth certainly wouldn't have been surprised to come back to an empty bed and half of the clothes picked up.

In fact, by the time she stripped the rest of her own clothes and climbed into the hot beams of water, she was entirely convinced that it would be this way. She would re-enter her bedroom and it would be like Jessica had never even appeared at her house, though the curtain would likely be flapping in the breeze.

Something about the imaginings was comforting, sure – but even Jeri Hogarth couldn't ignore the look she had had on her face. The vulnerability. The panic. It was so uncharacteristic, she found herself musing again as she slathered shampoo into her short locks. Something about it was troubling. 

If she were to pick up her clothes and flee the scene like a wanted criminal, where would she end up next? Surely she had no other resources to draw from if she had ended up on Hogarth's doorstep. _Window sill._ At this unconscious correction, Jeri smirked privately through the hot jets of water on her face, but it didn't last long. 

The two of them were essentially enemies on a good day. Obstacles to one another. A pair of roadblocks in each other's respective lanes. Where would Jessica Jones go to, then? She wasn't sure why the thought bothered her, but it did, minutely – enough to keep it clawing away at the back of her mind as she tried to rouse her thoughts onto other things. 

The meetings. Work. Pam. The divorce. She had far more compelling – and evidently, stressful – things that needed thinking about, and sorting, before she even attempted to undo the conundrum of Jessica. If she would ever even go so far as to attempt something so impossible. 

Either way, for one reason or another that Jeri couldn't figure – though she put it down to fatigue, just to be safe – she was still thinking of Jessica when she dried herself with her towel. And while she dressed herself in the same baggy shirt she had considered much earlier in the evening. 

Jeri had spent so much time considering and contemplating where Jessica would go and what she would do, the idea that the risk taker brunette could still be in her home didn't even seem to be a remote possibility anymore. How would she attempt to get to Hong Kong, then? Had Jeri been her last resort? What sorts of things would she get into just to get away? Entering the room and switching on the lamp to throw her towel in the hamper, she was faced with some amount of a surprise.

She found, with a distinct speeding in the level of her heartbeats, that Jessica was just where she had left her. Albeit, slightly shifted – she was now huddled into a crooked ball facing the wall, arms clutching the blankets in what Jeri assumed could only be a rib breaking embrace. 

Either way, she hadn't left – and something about the sentiment gave her an unfamiliar feeling. It was nice that she had decided to stay, she supposed, as a wry smile crossed her face. After all, she wouldn't have wanted her to get into more trouble. Or to run away. She was one of Hogarth's best investigators, in her own unique way. 

Jeri crossed the room without thought and brushed more strands of the sleeping brunette's hair from her pale face, admiring her delicate sleeping form. She thought to herself that there was no way anyone would think she held the force of a hurricane in her palms if they saw her like this. 

Catching herself in the act almost guiltily, petting Jessica's head as if she were her newest pet, Jeri crossed the room to switch off the lamp, distraught. The room was plunged into a darkness just as deep as the lower layers of the ocean, and she crawled over Jessica's form none too gently to occupy the spot by the wall. 

Jessica didn't even twitch at the disturbance, and Jeri's pillow felt somehow cold on her wet hair. She needed to get some sleep for tomorrow, or else risk looking like a well dressed zombie. She rolled to face the wall, her mind immediately conjuring up justifications for her behavior. _I, like any other person, can appreciate a beautiful woman in my bed._ This thought satisfied her. Yes. Nothing was more true. _No matter who it is._ This additional anecdote made her feel even more comforted. Nothing made Jeri Hogarth feel better like Jeri Hogarth – this even she couldn't deny most of the time. 

Closing her eyes, the sharky lawyer tried to settle her mind and her consciousness to a point where sleep was possible. Minutes passed in the blackness. She actively felt the weight of the other woman in her bed, and almost felt a non existent mattress creak at each inhale and exhale. What the hell was the matter with her? Now she was the one acting bizarre. 

Despite doing to Jessica what she had fully desired some hour ago, she found there was some tension remaining simply by the close-to-stranger's presence in her sheets. It was odd, but she forced her eyes to remain closed and her thoughts to remain quiet and tame. Before long darkness began to envelop her – and something else. 

She felt an arm circle about her waist and hug her close, so strongly that it startled her out of her semi sleep. The rest she so desired was so close and had been so slow coming. She felt Jessica's grip around her stomach, their bodies touching warmly, and the poke of the other woman's nose planted firmly in her back, and somehow the former tension dissipated entirely. 

Jessica moved no more, and neither did Jeri. She gave into sleep's hearkening call, not even bothering to make any excuses now for the rare gentle smile that played on her features in the safety of the darkness of night.


	2. Chapter 2

The bright morning sun was painful to Jessica's reluctantly opening eyes. She wasn't hungover – no, she hardly ever got to that point anymore – but it didn't change the painful fact that a white blind did nothing for the late sleeper.

In fact, she was surprised she had slept as long as she did. Wait, what time was it? Stirring more, Jessica pulled herself out of the bed just a little. She had somehow expected to find a body next to her. Someone's warmth that would pull her in, that she would absorb and with it resume sleeping – but she found the mattress next to her was cold as she pulled herself into a slow sitting position, groaning slightly as the implications of last night sloshed around in her muddled head like muddy water. 

She reached for her pockets to get her phone, but found she had no pockets, nor pants at all. Her jeans were in a heap on the floor by the heater, the same with her jacket, and – 

She was at Jeri Hogarth's house. Hogarth, as in evil kind-of employer. Hogarth, as in full of herself, self occupied asshole. That Hogarth. As if she knew or ever would know any other Hogarths. The night before came flooding back in snippets, like pages from a seriously disturbed and explicit photo album. 

Heat fluttered to her face like sunlight trickling in to warm her pale skin, but she quickly settled her thoughts. _What's the point in blushing now, Jones? It's done._ Besides, she had had an amazing time – that much she could safely admit to herself – even if she recalled nothing but blackness afterwards, assuming she passed out drunk. What was the point in regretting stupid things when she could focus on the things that it mattered to regret, she mused. 

_Jesus_ , she thought to herself as she brushed some messed hair out of her face, taking in the space around her. This place is even more freakishly neat in the daylight. And she was right – everything from clothes to furniture to household objects all had its own specific place. Nothing seemed to step outside these imposed norms, not a layer of dust on anything, not even the high shelf. The only mess in the room belonged to the seated brunette herself.

Jessica scoffed, pulling her chilled feet back up into the protection of the covers. She wasn't surprised by Hogarth's lack of clutter. Practicing organizational skills was probably the uptight lawyer's definition of a good time.

She remained in the other woman's bed a while, uncertain of the time, or of if Jeri was even at home. That she doubted, since the woman was a workaholic and probably spent eighty percent of her day behind that goddamn desk. It was awfully quiet though, so much different from Jessica's own apartment. 

Her apartment building, lined with cockroaches and coke-heads, was never a quiet place. Either the wind was whistling through cracks and freezing the place out, or her neighbors upstairs were screaming at each other, or there was a drug bust happening one floor down – no matter what it was, she hardly ever experienced this kind of solitude. It was almost uncannily bizarre, and she lay there, savoring it while absentmindedly combing out her long tangled locks with her thin fingers. 

Jessica savored it, anyway, for as long as she could stand it, before getting up to investigate the domain that was stretched out around her. The quiet was nice in small doses but mostly the PI found it somehow unnerving. She lowered her bare feet onto the floor before her, and slowly brought herself to a stand. 

Her lower back ached dully, she noted, as she plodded across the floor to the closed door on the other side of the room. She wondered what the rest of the apartment would look like in the light, but figured almost immediately it wouldn't be much different than the confinement of the bedroom. 

Firstly, she opened the knob and swung the door open a couple of inches. From this vantage point, she listened closely, as if trying to hear a home intruder or something – and when she deemed that outside the room was just as silent as in it, she felt it was enough to justify entering the hallway without bothering to squirm back into her floor-ridden jeans. 

She stalked down the hallway silently, the hardwood floor strikingly cold even on her already chilly feet. Eventually she found herself in an empty kitchen. There was a half unpacked box on the counter by the sink. She certainly hadn't noticed that in her haze the night before, and she found that the rest of the apartment was quite a bit more messy than the room, but she supposed moving into a new place usually translated into at least a month's worth of mess. It hadn't happened for her that way when she had taken up residence at what was now the Alias Investigations office, but that was because she had had a minimal number of personal possessions when she left Trish's place. 

The kitchen tiles were somehow even more cold than the wood and she took quicker strides over it, heading towards the table where she saw a sheet of paper. Could it be that Hogarth left her some kind of message? And if she did, what did it say? Show yourself the door? Probably.

The stark white paper on the dark oak table stood out, and Jessica handled it immediately, taking instant note of Hogarth's somewhat familiar handwriting. The short note was written entirely in the lawyer's small, slightly messy scrawl, and she scanned it over tight lipped. It read: 

_Jessica,_

_I tried to wake you up this morning but you were out cold. That's fine. I'm at work, and I have meetings all day and probably won't be back until sometime later in the evening. So make yourself scarce by that time. Lock the door on your way out and don't break it off the hinges, please._

_There's food and coffee if you're hungry. And feel free to take a shower (you could use it)._

_J.H._

_P.S: I hope you've changed your mind about Hong Kong. But if you haven't, your pay will be ready tomorrow at the pay office, as usual._

Finding herself scowling at the utter sardonic voice of the note, being able to hear every self righteous syllable as if spoken by Hogarth herself, Jessica laid the note back down and took a seat on the kitchen chair beside her. The scowl didn't wear off – she was aware she could use a shower as it was no question she could smell the booze and the sex and the god knows what else on her clothes now – but the way Hogarth put it was infuriating, as usual. 

She sat there, throwing her hand through her hair for a few minutes longer, before impulsively reading it over once more. The paper was slightly crumpled now, and at the mention of Hong Kong she felt a distinct whisper of a shiver return to plague her fingers. Kilgrave was alive. He was alive and would not doubt be after her, or those she loved – that's how she had ended up here at all. Somehow the most important detail had seemed to escape her, and now it was back with a creeping kind of force she couldn't ignore. 

Hong Kong. She had forgotten that Hogarth had managed to weasel that much out of her, tight lipped as she usually was about her personal life – but she definitely remembered her state of mind from the night before. She had been scared to death at the revelation, to the point where she hadn't even known where to go or who to turn to or how to escape. 

And then somehow she ended up at Hogarth's demanding her pay as vicious as a maniac looking for ransom. And then somehow ended up between her sheets. And then – well, she knew the rest. Here she was, after sleeping off a reckless drinking binge. Sitting in an empty apartment, with a note eloquently telling her to get the fuck out as soon as possible. 

But he was still out there. She felt hunted, which was not something someone with her formidable abilities was used to feeling. Normally she was physically better than everyone she met. But mentally, she thought with a shiver as she fought the memories that attempted to filter back to the forefront, she had learned the hard way, was quite different. Mentally, she had found herself inferior. 

Jessica sat there a while longer, knees hugged to her chest. Had she changed her mind about Hong Kong? _Main Street._ Kilgrave could be around any corner. What if he went after Trish next? _Birch Street._ As long as she was in New York she would never be able to escape him. _Higgins Drive._ Maybe fighting was worth a shot – she wasn't one to run – but if he got her again she couldn't begin to comprehend the consequences. _Cobalt Lane._

The breathlessness that came with her mild panic attack slowly went out the window, and she sat there, breathing, reveling in the fact that she could even do such a thing. Kilgrave was alive, and in New York, and ticked off. What other combination of elements could make her want to flee so indefinitely? 

Jessica got up from the chair, finally, in a huff and located after a short search, the washroom. She endured her reflection for the first time that morning, then – her bed head. The black circles that made her look like a humanoid panda. Her pallid face and expression contracted with stress. 

She stared at herself deep in the eyes. _I'm not scared of you anymore, asshole._ She told herself this a lot, but she supposed even if it didn't work more often than it did, she needed to hear it desperately right now. She wasn't afraid of him. She could stay and fight him and – 

Slamming her eyes shut, Jessica blocked out the memories. The toxic remembrance of what she had done, of what had happened the last time she successfully fought Kilgrave, wrestled for dominance over her brain's control panel. How much destruction would he reap before she successfully fought him this time? Last time, it was unbearable. She had no way of knowing. 

_No._ She thought to herself, indefinitely. _You're stronger than him._ She opened her eyes again and saw a spark that hadn't been alive before, and a thin layer of tears lining her lids with wetness. It felt strange to be doing some kind of pep talk in someone else's bathroom, as used to it as she was in her own. 

Regardless, she topped it off with what she knew she needed to hear most, saying it out loud for extra emphasis. “This is not my fault.” It sounded good – and would almost be convincing, really, if anyone but herself had been the listener. 

Shrugging, deciding to put Hong Kong out of her mind as much as possible, Jessica stripped off the previous night's clothes right there with the door open and ran the water. A hot shower, she thought, would do her good. It had had a healing effect on her in the past – then she could make some coffee (or hunt for some booze), chuck her clothes in the washer and get on her way when they were done. 

Then, when she was finally home and no longer occupied with this tangly situation she had gotten herself trapped in, she could focus on Hong Kong. Decide whether or not to go. Weigh her options. Worry about Kilgrave. 

It sounded like a plan to her – even if it was sort of half assed – and she jumped into the hot beams of water, immediately melting under their cleansing power and revitalizing freshness. She spent a long time in there, just standing under the jets, rinsing. By the time she emerged, she had been in there over twenty minutes.

As she located the towels – very fuzzy ones, she noted – she was very happy that there was nobody home to bitch at her about water consumption, or something. Occasionally, she considered, wrapping her dripping hair up in a towel, everyone was entitled to a longer than usual shower.

She walked around Hogarth's apartment freely in her towel, water dripping down her legs and occasionally to the floor as she hunted around for a laundry room, bundle of clothes under her arm. 

Eventually she happened upon them – Jeri would without a doubt have her own washer and drier, which was good since she didn't much want to venture all around the block looking for one in just a fuzzy purple towel – and she spent as much time as needed figuring them out. They were much newer, much more complicated than the ones Jessica's own apartment building tenants shared. 

Finally she got the cycle going, chucking everything in together – her dark tank top, jeans, bra, panties, everything – content, she supposed, to live in the towel until everything was done. So she left the machines to their business, and returned to the kitchen. She scanned the area for a liquor cabinet, but came up woefully empty. _Shit._

Continuing her search, but brewing the coffee pot just in case, Jessica found the towel was becoming more and more of an irritant on her drying body. The material that had once seemed fluffy became scratchy, and the knot she had made at the top wasn't tight enough exactly to keep itself up entirely. 

She knew her laundry wasn't nearly done yet, and so she ventured back into Hogarth's room, thinking to herself that there had to be something wearable in there that wouldn't make her look like she was on her way to a press conference. 

Jessica discovered before long that Jeri Hogarth had quite the walk in closet – she wasn't surprised – and she flicked on the light and walked inside as if it were her own. Of course a woman who took so much pride in her appearance would have something like this, Jessica presumed, examining her towel clad form for a moment in the full body mirror. 

But one thing the bitter brunette couldn't deny Hogarth, that she looked damn good all the time. That was more than a lot of people could say, but she was sure it wasn't without its unique pains. 

Examining the clothes, a lot of it looked the same to her still sleep dazed eyes. Office wear. Fancy dresses. Dress pants. Blouses and pencil skirts. The sorts of things a workaholic wore. Most everything was black or in shades of it, but Jessica singled out a white button up blouse towards the end and snatched it. 

Hogarth was taller than Jessica by far, and her clothes seemed to be tailor made. Specific to her cut to the point where Jessica could see her wearing it just by spreading it out on the bed, not a wrinkle hanging around on its surface the color of whipped cream. When Jessica let her towel fall and climbed into the blouse, the hem tapered much further down than she thought it should. Hogarth had broader shoulders, too, and longer arms – so the sleeves were droopy and ridiculous when she examined herself in the walk in mirror again.

Looking over her reflection in the shirt that was not quite her size, Jessica shrugged. _Fuck it._ It wasn't like anyone was here to comment or judge her anyway, not that she would have given much of a shit if they were. 

_Unless it was Hogarth._ This thought crept out of nowhere, and she scrunched up her nose as if catching a whiff of a distinctly horrid odor. Where the hell had that come from? Her thoughts shot back immediately, an internal friendly fire, as she told herself stubbornly that she wouldn't give a shit even if it was Jeri Goddamn Hogarth. 

Jessica stared at her reflection a little longer, her limp strands of wet hair hanging about her shoulders, not quite dry even after removing the towel. She looked better than she had earlier in the morning – even if she did look like a jackass in Jeri's clothes. The blouse had a distinct smell that reminded her of the night before. She brought the hem up to her nose and sniffed, revealing a glimpse of her belly button in the mirror she still stood in front of.

Lilacs? No. Not quite. But it was some kind of flower, faint as the smell was. It was nice. It was what Jeri had smelled like the night before when she had first crept into the older woman's personal space, that much she recalled vividly, for one reason or another. In fact, the longer she smelled it, Jessica found that the scent was associated with far more than last night alone. It was what Jeri always smelled like – just a fine, delicate, pleasant scent – must be her laundry detergent, Jessica digressed, letting the shirt drop back down and stopping herself from sniffing it anymore before things got weird.

She found a pair of pajama pants – surprised to find they had pastel polka dots on them instead of being plain black – and climbed into them commando style. Finally feeling remotely comfortable with the towel having been ditched, Jessica rolled up her slightly sagging sleeves, did up as many buttons as she needed, and went back to work on her mission impossible assignment of finding something good to drink in that apartment. Something good that was not coffee. 

The search for booze came up empty – well except for wine, but she hardly considered that real booze – so she poured up a cup of coffee, taking only a mouthful of the bitter red wine just to hold her over. She made toast, too, sitting at Hogarth's table like she owned the place. She took no more than two sips of coffee and one bite of toast before she got distracted. 

Leaving her impromptu breakfast, Jessica progressed into the living room – she wanted to check out the other rooms in the place. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't really want to let her mind open that can of worms, either. For the sake of self satisfaction, she decided she never quite knew when she would need dirt on somebody – and that, of course, included Jeri as well. 

The living room was less unpacked than the kitchen, and there were three or four boxes sitting on the floor by the window. Her couch looked practically untouched, and so the brunette decided to remedy that first. She flopped onto the cushions mercilessly, feeling their thick padding beneath her immediately, not a squeak. Must be new, she determined – and the same went for the bed, she recalled. 

It didn't seem much like Hogarth to let her wife keep much of anything in their very bitter divorce, but yet all the furniture – or at least most of it – seemed brand new. It struck Jessica as odd, not characteristically Hogarth, so she made a mental note of it and moved on. 

One of the things that was unpacked was a stereo with huge speakers. They looked like they would have a great base setting. It wasn't plugged in or in use – and by the dust it looked like it hadn't been in some while. Upon further examination, the PI noted that it was one of those four disc changers, and there was a stack of CDs just behind it.

Sitting on the floor, Jessica began to rifle through the discs. She expected to find the kind of music that an uptight, tight lipped lawyer would listen to. She didn't know what kind of music exactly that was, even in her own mind – maybe Mozart or Celine Dion or something equally as boring – but she was both surprised and intrigued by some of the titles. 

Some of the others, not so much. Frank Sinatra, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, David Bowie. _Typical._ No classical, though, which somehow legitimately shocked her – but she didn't know shocked until she came across the next few titles. 

Bruce Springsteen? Rihanna? _The Beach Boys?_ Part of her wanted desperately to think these titles had belonged to her wife. That, or were some possessions her cute office girlfriend had left there. Something about Jeri Hogarth rocking out to _Wouldn't it be Nice_ simply did not fit. 

Jessica put the dust lined cases down and stood up, making a straight line towards one of the cardboard boxes. It was simply marked “home”, scrawled on the side in a quick flash of permanent marker. The top had already been ripped open, the tape severed clean and neat as if with a box cutter. The mark of someone who wanted to take their time unpacking, and who was in no desperate hurry to let whatever was inside see the light of day. 

Peeking inside, Jessica saw a few typical things. Dishes wrapped in cloth and paper, that looked old. A couple of them were chipped. Maybe they had belonged to relatives, Jessica presumed, laying them aside with care and rummaging through her employer's other personal items unabashedly. Occasionally, she would have to stop to pull up a drooping, unruly sleeve. 

Before long she found something else that caught her eye in the form of a framed picture. It wasn't of her parents, or her wife, but of Jeri and another boy who looked younger. They were making ridiculous faces in the photo that looked rather old, and something about it cracked a small smile across Jessica's otherwise expressionless face. 

The girl, who looked to be about nine or ten probably in the image, was undeniably Jeri. She looked so much like her – even eerily so – it was like Hogarth had just gotten taller and older but her face hadn't changed at all. Except for, well, the fact that Jessica had never seen her puff out her cheeks and cross her eyes before and thought she probably never would. 

The boy looked smaller in size, and it struck Jess that maybe Hogarth had a younger brother. He looked a bit like Jeri, shorter than her and extending his pink tongue towards the camera, laughter dancing in his eyes. She thought immediately of herself and Phillip, and the memory stung her more than she expected. It was like belly flopping onto water from one hundred feet in the air. 

She ran her fingers across the glass, a thin line of dust clinging to her fingerprints and coming off entirely. She certainly didn't expect Jeri to be such a home body. Keeping old china and goofy photos seemed like a normal practice, sure, but it was then that Jessica realized that much of the time she had known the woman, she had never considered her to be “normal”. 

She was like a robot – at the office, same tone, same style of dress, same work – and always successful work, to boot. Programmed for success, always impersonal and professional. It was like she was just unplugged at the end of the day and never really went home. It wasn't until she had made her way inside in last night's drunken panic that the thought had even occurred to her that Hogarth was a regular human being who slept on a mattress, wore pajamas and could get bed head. It was a peculiar thing to realize, as she promptly put the photo aside. 

Jeri was a regular woman who had an apartment, a bed, and a coffee pot. She kept family heirlooms and collected stupid old family photos, and listened to what she wanted. Again, they all seemed like obvious statements, but it wasn't something that she had ever internalized in her former interactions with the woman. Jeri somehow hadn't seemed real to Jessica, until she had uncovered these seemingly hidden, seemingly normal habits and sentiments.

Jessica felt something rising in her, like a soft spot – she resisted it and tried mightily to scale it over and seal it shut. _It's just nice, I guess._ Jessica liked to learn things about people that she otherwise wouldn't know – and especially things that people wouldn't tell her – and while what she was finding wasn't necessarily dirt by the usual definition, she was liking what she was finding somehow. 

Next thing out of the box was Jeri's high school graduation photos. She still looked the same, only younger – her face perhaps not so dulled out by the woes of professionalism. There was a certain spark in her eyes, but a certain suffering, too – the young man beside her was dressed sharply in a suit, arm around her waist, and a discomfort seemed to lurk around the corners of her mouth. She must have been in the closet then. 

This was something else that Jessica had never considered. Jeri Hogarth had and probably still had insecurities. It was hard to consider something like that when the woman was striving for perfection daily. And she always gets there, Jessica found herself thinking as she stared into the prom photo, a snapshot, minutes frozen, of time gone by. 

The other things in the box were pretty typical. There were a few more photos, of what she could only presume were her and family and friends. A whole photo album of these, in fact. There was also more dishes – not so old this time, so maybe she had won that much from her soon to be ex – and some other miscellaneous items that Jessica didn't bother to handle. When she got to the bottom of the box, she put everything back in carefully, not wanting anything to look disturbed or out of place. 

She went back to the washer, and chucked her outfit into the drier with a wry smile. One step closer to getting outta here.

Next, she thought, she would check out the bedroom. Sure, she had woken up in there, but she hadn't spent much time rummaging around places that weren't the closet. So she trotted down the hallway and reentered the room she had gone in and out of a few times that day, leaving her barely touched breakfast on the table to get even colder. 

When she got in the room, Jessica found herself thinking about the night before. Something about how the room smelled, or how the air felt, triggered a memory. When Jeri had first made a grab at her, pulling them together in a kiss that was charged with so much fury and pent up sexual energy that she swore she had felt their teeth clack together. 

Jessica shivered, trying to divert her mind. She saw a few drawers and a bookshelf that looked like they would conjure up a few secrets, but she had lost motivation suddenly. She flopped into the unmade bed, finding that Jeri's scent surrounded her there, too. It was like how the woman marked her territory, or something – and hesitantly, as if someone would watch her and judge her, Jessica brought the hem of the shirt up to her face again and inhaled. 

It was distinctly Hogarth. Just like the sheets and the pillowcases and, well – everything in this damn place. It was distracting, as she let her head rest a few moments on the same pillow she had slept so soundly on the night before. 

The distinctively familiar scent flowed all around her. It was like Jeri was lying right beside her, really – just as if their bodies were wound together. Just like the night before, when she had casually let all inhibitions fall and jumped into another woman's sheets. 

Jessica shivered. Her eyes wandered all around the stark white ceiling, dancing along every crease or imperfection, and she thought harder about her encounter with Jeri. The woman had quite the reputation for someone who was married, she considered – she didn't know many faces or talk to many people at her office but she was sure the rumors were flying. After all, Jessica had seen the way she gazed at Pam across her desk. 

The way her eyes wandered across her knee length, floral pattern dress. The way they would cunningly rise from her dark pumps to her twitching little behind, up to the back of her well constructed, light up-do. It was hardly casual, but Jessica supposed that this is what Hogarth wanted. She wanted Pam to know she was interested. 

But hadn't she looked at Jessica that way once before, too?

The memory came filtering back, like sunlight revealing a slate of dust on a high, forgotten shelf. During one of the fleeting first times she had been in Hogarth's office, unsure of how the new gig would play out or if she would still stick around, she recalled getting those eyes. 

She hadn't looked her best that day, so at the time she had taken it as contempt on the part of her acquaintance. But now, - now that she had studied to some degree the so called “work dynamic” or herself and Pam for some while, Jessica had some different feelings about it. Jeri's dark gaze had scanned her, as if looking for some hidden message. Travelling from her scowl down the open flaps of her jacket, down across her denim clad thighs. 

Something about the recollection now dawned on her with a prickle of heat up her spine. She breathed in the scent of the bed sheets she was still tangled in. She thought of that dark gaze, the studious nature as it explored every curve and nook. She had misinterpreted. After all, Jeri certainly hasn't hesitated last night with the opportunity presented itself. How long had she been waiting for such an opportunity?

Hogarth had been so close in her personal bubble, and she recalled her own volatile hand around the other woman's wrist. Her forehead had been red hot, she remembered, like some kind of fast spreading fever overtaking her body. She remembered had the goosebumps had started to race the moment that Jeri's mouth met her own. 

It hadn't taken the older woman long to slam her onto the bed, then, and Jessica let her – even if at the back of her mind, her bruised ego sorely told her that she might regret just throwing herself at Hogarth like this. But she hadn't regretted it yet – at least not more or less really than any other one night stand she had had. 

Jeri was a rough love maker. That much became obvious. And she certainly got off on control, but that much could be known just by a quick look into the history of her law career. Jessica felt her own hand straying downwards now, her throat tight and dry, the silence of the apartment somehow egging her on. 

The smell of the bed sheets too, pushed her forward, and before long she was idly sliding her right hand down the front of the borrowed pajamas. Part of it felt pretty wrong, and ridiculous to boot – masturbating in someone else's home, in their borrowed clothes, in their bed that she still wasn't entirely sure she was welcome in. She had no idea what time it was. She knew she should leave soon, but the opportunity that was just as tempting as it was questionable seemed to be blocking her rational thoughts. 

With no underwear to act as a barrier, Jessica could go right to work, and so she started off the impromptu session by grinding down slow on her clit with her index finger, shuddering at the friction and shutting her eyes. Her legs gradually fell open almost subconsciously, and it made her realize that she really was going to go through with this. She moved herself slowly and coarsely towards the edge on the back of this motion alone, the warm, wetness of her own cunt seeming somehow familiar to herself in that moment. 

The smell of Jeri – her clothes, her sheets, herself – all around her seemed to bring her pleasure up another degree. It was if the woman was here with her, instead of off doing god knows what meeting about god knows what with god knows who in their stiff suits. The smell, the extra stimulus, allowed her to shut her eyes and focus solely on the pleasure, almost forgetting that she herself was the source. 

She groaned a little to herself in the quiet of the bedroom, feeling the heat flaring on her cheeks with each stroke she made, melting in the palm of her own hand as she finally pushed herself to bring the entire situation full circle. Two of her fingers sank deep into her heat, and she felt her hips twist and buck towards the source of the sheer euphoria. 

The entire situation was highly ridiculous, she knew, but it didn't stop her from feeling as if she might go full tilt orgasm there in Jeri's bed even without the lawyer even present. She hadn't been sure when her hand had first begun to stray, where, or how far this would go – but now as she felt her self control beginning to fall apart at the seams she thought she would have to finish this, indefinitely, or else risk being uncomfortably on edge the rest of the day. 

What was getting her off, she thought, only picking up the speed further as she brought herself shamelessly to the top. Was it the scent? The location? The memories of a spontaneous romp that had left her reeling?

Or had she simply been harboring way more sexual energy for Jeri Goddamn Hogarth than she had initially thought? This thought in some ways infuriated her, but that translated directly into the jerking power of her super strength endowed fingers inside of her now. Jessica hated being a fool for anyone, but here she was being a total fool for the one woman she thought she could never even tolerate on a good day. 

Was it the Jeri Hogarth that was cunning and calculating that was getting her off? The same Jeri who had stared through her with piercingly serious eyes the night before, and who had taken no hesitation in fucking her so hard that the bed and wall had both been threatened? The Jeri that was seemingly more robot than human much of the time, dominating the court and never taking a day off? That Jeri? 

Or was it the hidden, human Jeri Hogarth that Jessica had just recently discovered. The one who let her sleep in her bed all day rather than wake her up. The Hogarth who kept old china belonged to her relatives, and goofy family photos. The Jeri who she thought probably danced around in those ridiculous polka dot pajama pants to The Beach Boys. The Jeri who seemed some semblance of sheer normal, despite what her uptight work facade would have to say about her. That Jeri? 

Jessica didn't know, and she didn't have much time to debate it before she felt herself spill. After a slow and almost agonizingly gradual build, her body let go of the tension it had been coveting and let her go from all worries and doubts - there was no going back. The pleasure roared through her, spiking, and she lay there clenching the mangled blankets with her free hand, moaning audibly, though trying not to make too much noise. She felt her abdomen seize up, tight like a rock surface as she gasped, coming from the sheer ability of her own hand. Slowly, she retracted that arm from its spot between her thighs, panting through her dry mouth for some air. 

Her cheeks were crispy and hot, just like they had been the night before, and Jessica lay there for a long time just trying to comprehend what had just happened. She took her time catching her breath, feeling stark naked in her realization that she had just gotten herself off in Jeri's bed while the latter woman was away. 

_That,_ she thought, finally wrangling some air into her lungs, _is probably how you end up sued, Jessica._ Staring at the ceiling, she let herself take in the age old idea of “what she doesn't know won't hurt her”, and it brought her a little justification in her state of ridiculous, wrecked discomfort. 

It didn't remove how wrong she felt, now that it was over, however – she was just able to step one floor above it and ignore its presence. Just like she could usually do with other causes of self loathing, like her guilt. _Stuff it in the attic and move on. There's no changing it now._

 _Besides,_ a shameless whisper of a thought began, creeping up alongside her ear, _Hogarth probably would've been into that._ The thought was uncalled for, but humorous in its own way and she almost smirked. The brunette lay there in a disconcerted heap for another several minutes she didn't quite keep track of. Could have been ten, or only three, but either way when she felt herself beginning to doze she forced herself up. 

That would be a cute scene, she determined grimly as she placed her feet on the floor, imagining Hogarth coming home to her curled up like a homeless cat on her bed in her clothes. Jessica's heart fluttered at the idea – no, she thought, uncomfortable – she had already pushed herself weirdly into Hogarth's personal sphere enough in the past twenty four hours. She had been an insider for a time, but she thought that it was high time – and that she was quite ready – to go back outside.

And so, mind made up, Jessica Jones went to the washer and drier to find her laundry. Upon noting that it was all clean and dry, she got changed. Making sure that nothing was amiss in the apartment, Jessica took a mouthful or two of the ice cold coffee she had left on the tale, threw the mostly untouched toast into the trash and left, locking the fort down tight behind her. 

The next day, the PI found herself feeling slightly tentative about going to the payroll office. Sure, it was time she got paid for that case, and she wanted the money but risking going down there meant the potential of coming face to face with Jeri since the incident. Well, since all the incidents – from spending the night under her to picking through her apartment to getting herself off in the woman's bed.

The idea of having to look at her after all that was a little grating on her sleep deprived nerves. She could delay it a little while, and not take a case for the next while – she could probably do without one for now – and then come back to Jeri in a couple of weeks when the whole thing was like a distant sex dream. 

Jessica found this plan thoughtfully solid, except when she became aware of the utter cowardice involved. She hated backing down, or feeling uncomfortable, and she wanted that pay check – so she began to convince herself to woman up and deal with the whole embarrassing situation head on.

After all, she could go down to the office building without ever having to actually speak to Jeri. She didn't work at payroll, obviously. In fact, she might not even be in her office. These thoughts comforted her, so around noon on Monday, Jessica headed out down the street to Jeri's place of work where she could acquire her due pay and then disappear for a little while. 

She got inside and headed on through, eyes focused ahead, not looking at or talking to anyone. Get in, get out – those were the only words flitting across the naked space of her mind as she made her way in the general direction of the pay office. 

She was almost there, when she heard the voice. It was like a dagger through the air, and cutting through her conscious thoughts. It was no question, or even exclamation – just a statement, blank of any connotations that could give a hint as to what she wanted. “Jessica.” 

Jessica turned to her left, finding the office clad Jeri Hogarth in front of her just as she had expected when she heard the tone. The woman had a stack of papers in her hand and seemed to be returning in the direction of her office, so it was just her luck, Jessica deemed, that they would bump into each other. 

“Here to get your pay?” Jeri asked now, in a way that seemed to Jessica like she already knew and was just striking up small talk for whatever unknown purpose. Jessica felt her heart hammering in her chest at lightning speed, though she couldn't quite discern why. Despite what her head had told her earlier in the morning, she didn't find it at all awkward to look at Jeri now. To make eye contact with her, however brief. To converse. None of it seemed to be the torturous ordeal her mind had made it out to be, and yet her heart still drummed away.

“Yeah,” Was all the flighty brunette replied with, watching the older woman's movements to see what it was that was really on her mind. As was the custom with Hogarth, it didn't take long for Jessica to find out exactly what it was. 

“Still going to Hong Kong?” Jeri asked this, some remains of a smirk playing on her lips, and Jessica glowered a little bit. She knew Hogarth had never taken that claim seriously – she could tell just by looking at her that she thought it was simply the delirious ramblings of a drunk woman. It bothered her a little, but then again, she thought, palms sweaty, maybe it was better that she was in the dark. Let her think that, she determined – at least then it would save having to drag her into the whole catch-a- Kilgrave business she would soon be getting caught up in.

The smirk that remained, idling, waiting for an answer, made Jessica not want to tell her the truth of what she decided. She wanted to shock her with the answer,"yeah, I'm still going,” but she knew that wasn't the case. Speaking over her obnoxious heartbeat, Jessica told the truth in her own cold mannered way. “No. I'm not. I've got other plans now.” 

“Plans that still involve leaving the country?” Jeri questioned coolly. 

_Jesus, what is this, an interrogation?_ Frowning, Jessica wondered why the hell Jeri Hogarth suddenly seemed to give so much of a shit about what her plans were or where she was going. “No,” She replied honestly. “I'm staying.” 

“That's what I like to hear,” Jeri said then, and it caught Jessica off guard. So much so, that she opened her mouth to object but was silenced by the lawyer's voice that had swooped in rather quickly to scoop up any misunderstood slack. “After all, even if you don't technically work here, you're still an asset as an investigator.” 

With that, and without so much as a see you later, Jeri was making her way back down the hall that Jessica had come from. The confused brunette watched her go a minute, before tearing her eyes away and staring back on her mission to get paid . What the hell was that? 

Of course it was about work with Hogarth. The woman never thought about much else, it seemed – and she ignored duly the images of Beach Boys CDs and goofy faced pictures that tried to flit back into her brain. 

That same grating whisper, that was often doubting herself or others, came back into focus in her mind. _What if it was just a nice save?_ The thought rattled her a little bit, her heart battling her chest for freedom again at the implication. 

Not wanting to dwell on it and mostly wanting to forget it had even happened, like some kind of weird slip of the tongue that Hogarth had not meant to say nor Jessica to receive, the PI went into the pay office and put the issue as far out of her mind as it would budge.


	3. Chapter 3

Later that night, Hogarth found her apartment was deadpan. Silent, and somehow lonesome, she had been surprised to find it in one piece the day she had left Jessica there alone. But, she supposed, her door was still on its hinges and nothing seemed out of place, so what was the harm? 

The lawyer got ready for bed after an exhausting day, and slipped under the covers for much needed reprieve from the issues at hand in her life. She lay awake a long time, thinking, oddly enough, about Jessica Jones. Why, she didn't know, but all she knew was that the woman was somehow on her brain. Taking control of her thoughts like some kind of puppet master. 

She remembered momentarily, how distraught she had been Saturday night – and how, when she saw her that morning, she had seemed much remedied by something. Hong Kong was no longer an option, and that was welcome news – Jessica truly was an amazing investigator. 

She ignored the inkling that that wasn't her only cause for relief, and sighed. The darkness was calming and the quiet, reassuring, but she still found she couldn't sleep. Something about the closure of her bedroom was stifling, and Jessica ran rampant through the twisting canals of her mind.

Jeri recalled the stillness of her sleeping figure. How soft and calm her face looked. How comfortable she seemed. The way her nose had poked into her spine just hard enough to be felt when she had clutched onto her back in the darkness of sleep. The memories were somehow fond to Hogarth, though she wanted to resist it. _She's not my type,_ she told herself suddenly, out of the blue. 

She forced her mind to move onto other things – Pam, perhaps, or even work – and it was effective for about ten minutes of silence as she struggled to put her thoughts out like a forever burning cigarette. Before long, she found Jessica had crept back in, and she sighed audibly. 

_I wonder..._

She climbed out of bed, and over to her window. She opened it wide, and leaning her hands on the sill, poked her head out into the refreshingly chill night air. She was up high, and the pavement below glowed with amber street lamps. There was nobody around. A plastic grocery bag rolled across the street in a breeze. Someone's car alarm went off in the distance. A man talking on his cell phone appeared suddenly from an alley, and walked on down the sidewalk. 

What she didn't see was a small but fierce looking woman on a mission, with a flowing mass of dark hair and a leather jacket hanging open. _That goddamn leather jacket and those jeans._

Somehow disappointed, Jeri closed the window, and returned to her bed for what she could only expect would be a long, dreary and unrelenting night. 

_She's not my type._

~ 

Jessica crawled under the covers of her apartment after a long and grueling day of hunting Kilgrave. Doing something made her feel better, more content wit the situation – and though she couldn't sleep, she knew that wasn't the end of the world. If it got bad enough, she would get up, pour herself some whisky for edge and get back on the job. 

She turned first and lay on her left side, closing her eyes but finding it impossible to turn her thoughts off. Her head dully ached from staring at computer screens, her thoughts raced with musings about leads and questions unanswered. It was going to be a bad night, she deemed, and so decided to give herself another thirty minutes before getting up again. 

She turned to her right side. Minutes ticked by, and she sighed, irritated, shuffling over to check the time on her phone. 2:34 am. The bright letters seemed to hurt her head more, even for the brief moment she viewed them, and she turned it off instantly, groaning as her head struck the pillow. 

She lay on her back now, suddenly wondering out of the blue how things might have been different now if she were in a hotel in Hong Kong, rather than her ratty apartment in Hell's Kitchen. She remembered with a sudden fury how Jeri had confronted her about it – something she hadn't really thought of since in her heat to cover a lot of ground for her Kilgrave case. 

Maybe it was good that she didn't go, she deemed, remembering the moment – for whatever reason, Jeri seemed pleased she hadn't decided to run off with her tail between her legs. Jessica was herself pleased. Finding Kilgrave and stopping him from wrecking the lives of others had given her new purpose. New purpose that she certainly wouldn't have hiding away on the other side of the world. 

Jessica began to think, maybe, that if she showed up at Hogarth;s again, she would be accepted. Something about her face when they had met outside the pay office earlier that day had whispered it to her. She was open to having her in her home, and possibly, her bed again – but then again, it was only a hunch. 

But still, she thought, it was so easy – all she had to do was get dressed, head down the street, and – 

Jessica shook the thoughts away from her head quite literally, finding the sudden vigorous movement shook the hot blood inside her head again and made her headache that much more vicious. She placed a cool hand on her forehead, and closed her eyes. It was best that she just stayed here. That was the only way to put the whole ordeal with Hogarth in the rear view mirror. 

Instead, Jessica lifted the hem of her tank top – the one she had washed at Jeri's a day before – to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like her laundry detergent, and thus like her, and it was almost comforting, she hated to admit. It was like having another person in the bed with her. 

Smelling it again, Jessica sighed, and shut her eyes, determined to stay put and sleep. She felt the smell surrounding her, and the haze of sleep fixating upon her after a time. Her heart thudded dully in her chest, brought to life by the scent, or the source of the scent, whose place in the grand scheme of things she hadn't quite found, yet. Maybe she never would. 

Dreary and drunk on fatigue, the last coherent thought to fly through her soggy mind was one she was not familiar with, but it provided her the shelter she needed to let go of the situation for the time being. Even if she did still clutch the familiar scented tank to her face, but that was a detail she thought she would be okay with grazing over for the sake of her sanity. _She's not my type._


End file.
